


Tables Have Turned

by DearSweetAnon



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anko Family - Freeform, Family, Fluff, IKEA, London, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearSweetAnon/pseuds/DearSweetAnon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lukas and Matthais live in London. Lukas doesn't speak English. Life is different now.</p><p>(Based off une-pomm3's prompt about this. I wrote-ed)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tables Have Turned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inverted_typo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverted_typo/gifts).



Lukas looked out the window, down to the rainy landscape that awaited him below. He sighed heavily. It wasn’t that he didn’t like England, it was just that he didn’t speak any English, and… well, and it wasn’t home. Home was Norway, or Denmark. But not dreary grey London. But, Matthais had had a job offer, and it meant moving to England. “Hey, er du OK? Vi lander snart.” (Hey, are you OK? We’re landing soon. -Danish) Lukas nodded. He didn’t speak any English. It wasn’t a requirement in Norway, whereas Matthais had learnt plenty in school. 

Lukas looked over to where Emil was curled up in his seat, quietly sleeping. He was so precious to them. It had been hard to adopt him, especially as he had been living in Iceland when his mother had died. It was only due to a friend of a friend that they had known Emil existed. Then they met him, loved him and adopted him. Emil looked scarily like Lukas, and Matthais said that it was ‘clearly meant to be!’ Lukas would just lightly hit Matthais and sigh, but really, he thought it was nice that people sometimes thought Emil was his biological son. A woman’s smooth voice came over the tannoy system, but it was in English, and Lukas could only pick up a few words and phrases. ‘soon’ ‘landing’ ‘Heathrow’ (that was the airport, right?) ‘thank you for flying with British Airways’. The announcement was soon repeated in Danish, and Lukas caught nearly every word. Living in England would be hard.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lukas weaved his way through the crowds. Damn, Kings Cross was always packed, and he was in a real hurry. He had to go to Matthais’ office to meet people. Why? He spoke only marginally more English than he had when they had first moved, a few months ago. It was some sort of office party, and spouses and children were invited. That’s why did Lukas not only have to navigate his way to the building with only the words ‘get off at Oxford Circus’ to navigate by, but he also had a two-year old in his arms. By some miracle he managed to get on the right underground train (the light blue one) and sat down. There were always tourists from several countries at Kings Cross, and today was no exception. There was a tall Russian man, slowly inching away from…his sister? (she was pretty, but scary, and made a teen across from her burst into tears when she randomly yelled something. From the way it made the brother squeak in terror and the other sister to have tears start welling up, he could tell it wasn’t very nice). Afore mentioned crying teen was sitting between two other young men, who were all looking warily at the Russian family (now the first sister was wielding a knife at the older sister, and wow that escalated quickly). Further down an exuberant Australian man was cheerfully talking to a friend. He and Matthais would get on well. The friend sighed, slapped him, and then returned to their phone like nothing had happened. Huh, maybe the friend and he would get on well. 

Lukas nearly forgot where he was getting off, but was relieved to find that he hadn’t missed it. He slowly made his way through the crowds when the train came to Oxford Circus and arrived at Matthais’ office. He worked for a furniture company with his brother. Y’know, THAT furniture company. Talk about Swedish stereotypes. He was in advertising, and Berwald designed furniture. Lukas pushed open the door, and walked over to the receptionist. Then he realised that he didn’t know how he could talk to them. Luckily Matthais came down at that moment and rescued him. 

“Hi Sarah! This is Lukas. He doesn’t speak much English.” She nodded and smiled.   
“Oh, okay. Taking him up to the office? Have fun!”  
“Thanks, will do! Have a nice day.”

Well, that’s what was said, but Lukas only understood some of it. ‘doesn’t speak much English’ ‘office’ ‘Thanks’ ‘nice day’. It was tedious to try and fill in the gaps in conversations, but he didn’t have much choice. Matthais turned to him. “Hej søde. Tak for at komme. Jeg vil have dig til at møde nogen. Du har stadig taler rumænsk, ikke?” (Hi sweetheart. Thanks for coming. There’s someone I’d like you to meet. You still speak Romanian, right?-Danish)   
Lukas passed Emil to Matthais, as he was making grabby hands for his daddy. “Ja, litt.” (Yes, a bit-Norwegian) “Hvorfor?” (Why?-Norwegian)  
“En af mine kollegaer kæreste er rumænsk, og han taler endnu mindre engelsk end dig!” (One of my co-worker's boyfriend is Romanian, and he speaks even less English than you!-Danish). After Lukas had hit Matthais for the grievous insult to his language skills, he agreed to talk to this co-worker’s boyfriend.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lukas sat in Dr Johnson’s room, with Emil in his lap. Matthais was talking to the doctor, but Lukas still had insufficient ability to speak English that he couldn’t discuss the results of Emil’s’ check-up with the paediatrician. He could only sit and quietly observe as Matthais easily spoke this foreign language. He only could stare as unobtrusively as possible. Soon they were finished, and not a moment too soon for Lukas. Matthais confirmed that Emil was fine and healthy, which was of course great. Until not too long ago, Emil had been very sick, and like the doting, slightly overbearing parents they were, Lukas and Matthais still worried very much about him getting sick again. 

He shook himself out of his little daydream to see that Matthais and Dr Johnson were getting up, so he stood as well. The doctor went one way, and Matthais was going another, he followed his husband, naturally. He walked over to the receptionist’s desk, and Lukas followed like a puppy. He hated situations like this, where he was useless, except to hold Emil. Matthais was already talking to the receptionist, but turned to Lukas. “Hvad med torsdag 18.? Ved 2 eller ville du foretrække 10? Jeg tror morgen ville være bedre.” (How about Thursday 18th? At 2, or would you prefer 10? I think the morning would be better-Danish). Lukas nodded passively and Matthais turned back to the receptionist. How tables had turned, he reflected. In Denmark he had been organised, responsible, while Matthais bounded around, doing very little. Now Matthais had no choice but to be the organised one, making appointments, filling in forms, working. Lukas had no choice but do nothing, he just didn’t have the capabilities to. 

Indeed, how the tables had turned.

**Author's Note:**

> I really liked this prompt-thing, so I wrote it! Yay.   
> PS- I think I am going to permanently abandon Echoes. Should I? Please tell me if you want me to continue it! Otherwise not... 
> 
> PPS- Am I allowed to gift this? I saw this on your Tumblr, but I couldn't log in to post it there, so this is my next best option. :/


End file.
